


New Light

by whirly_girl



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Female Ori, Genderswap, Inspired by Disney's Tangled and Hunchback of Notre Dame, Romantic Fluff, Runaway!Kili, Stupid dwarrow kids in love, hobbit au, overprotective!Dori
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-09
Updated: 2013-07-09
Packaged: 2017-12-18 05:14:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/876011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whirly_girl/pseuds/whirly_girl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I don’t want to just read stories anymore; I want to make my own! And I can’t do that from up in here. Will you help me? Please?”</p><p>Dori swore that when she was born, Ori would be kept safe, so he locked her away from the world and its horrors. In the tower she stayed more than happily, but 79 years is a long time, and now Ori wants to see what the outside is like. She makes a deal with the runaway Kili and he whisks her away on an adventure she'll never forget.</p>
            </blockquote>





	New Light

**Author's Note:**

> To start with a cliché...

 

 

 

Once upon a time, there was a small family of dwarves. There was a Momma, a Poppa, and two young boys; a teen and a toddler.

One day, Poppa walked out the door and never came home.

Momma said there had been an accident in the mines and Poppa could never return.

She told her youngest that everything would be alright, not to worry, my darling boy.

She told her eldest the truth.

“You’re the man of the house now. I need to find work, so you’re in charge. Take care of your brother. Keep him out of trouble.”

Then Momma left too. Each day she crept out of the home at dawn, careful not to wake her boys, to work as a scullery maid at an inn across the bustling city of Dale and did not return til after sundown.

Each day the eldest found his hands full, trying to juggle cooking, cleaning, learning his lessons, tutoring his brother, managing what little money they had, fixing up the run-down cottage, mending clothes, visiting the market for food and cloth, and keeping their noses clean of trouble.

Yet, years passed and with each season, mother and brother both paid less and less heed to the youngest. He grew angry. He grew sneaky. He grew quick. He grew clever. It hurt, being ignored by those who said they loved you, so he worked to fill the void in his heart. He stole petty things, coin and beads, material happiness, and became content with the bittersweet feeling of accomplishment with each new score.

The eldest felt like he had failed his mother; the guilt of his neglectfulness grew each day. The youngest was never home, and when he was, they argued constantly about the trouble he got into.

But at the same time… they needed the money.

So the eldest begrudgingly began to accept the mysterious deposits the younger brought home, nausea churning in his gut as he played the role of enabler.

Then the mother made an announcement.

She was expecting again.

The eldest grew excited. A miracle! A second chance to do right by his family!

The youngest grew spiteful. One more thing to rob him of attention.

Each awaited the arrival of the new baby with baited breath, praying to Mahal that all would be well.

But it was not to be.

The babe came early, months too early. Too small, too quiet, she lay peacefully in the eldest’s arms whilst tears streamed down his face.

She had her first breaths as Momma took her last. It was just the three of them now.

Looking over his elder’s shoulder at his newest sibling, the younger brother felt his heart swell like never before, all jealousy and sorrow melting away.

She was impossibly tiny, even for their race, her eyes shut tight and her pink lips parted, fragile as glass, but her tiny chest rose and fell assuredly with each breath.

He vowed to always provide for her, to give her whatever her heart desired, so she could live a life without longing as he had.

The eldest vowed to protect her til the end of his days, so she wouldn’t end up like Momma or Poppa or his brother. She’d stay alive, away from danger, from hurt, from wrong. She had to.

So he locked her away.

Safe.

Until one day…

-

“Oh, I’m going to _kill_ him!”

Ori’s eyes shot open at the sound of her brother’s voice.

Blinking in the bright morning sunlight, she groaned and stuffed her face into her pillow, begging sleep to reclaim her. Eyelids heavy in the soft, feathery darkness, she gave in to her lethargy and succumbed to the sweet pull of slumber… at least, until Dori began banging around the kitchen.

 Moaning, she heaved herself over the edge of the bed and gave up on getting any more sleep.

“Alright, alright, I’m awake…” she mumbled, stretching her arms over her head til her back popped. “Mmm…”

She fumbled taking off her nightgown, fingers clumsy with lingering drowsiness, but eventually she undid all of the buttons and left it in a rumpled mess on the floor. She stumbled over to her open wardrobe in her underthings and ran a hand over her dresses, cotton and wool dancing under her fingertips.

“Ori!” Dori shouted up the stairs. “Ori, are you up yet?!”

“Just a second!” Ori called back, pulling on a violet shift. Cotton pants followed, then a belt around her middle, and a woolen scarf around her neck.

She grabbed a brush and threw open her door, yanking it through her ginger-brown tangles, and thudded her way down the stairs. After tossing the brush lightly onto an armchair in the parlor, she turned into the kitchen.

“ _Or_ – oh, there you are darling,” he looked up at his sister as she appeared in the doorway. “Fetch me the vanilla, would you please?” Dori held out his left hand, violently whisking batter in a bowl with his right.

Ori made her way around the dwarf to stand in front of the spice cabinet and, straining on the tips of her toes, knocked the bottle of vanilla down into Dori’s waiting palm.

“Thank you.”

She hopped up onto the dinner table, fingering the nicks and dents in the aged wood absentmindedly. “You’re welcome, brother.”

For a few short moments she sat quietly, watching Dori splatter batter on himself, the walls, the countertop, and the floor.

He was in one of his moods again, taking care of his anger with what Ori liked to call “Aggressive Baking.” Too bad he wasn’t any good at it.

Dori was usually a happy dwarf; when he wasn’t away working in his teashop, he was keen on spending the day puttering around, fussing over this and that (both of which were usually Ori) and sipping his way through several pots of tea. Only one thing could really work him up into such a whirlwind of activity.

“What did Nori do?” she inquired lightly.

Shooting her a _look_ , he replied icily, his stirring increasing in speed. “I received a letter. That idiot’s gone and got himself locked up in Mirkwood. He apparently fancied himself some Elvish trinkets and got his sorry arse caught and locked away.”

“Oh, Nori…” she tried to look disappointed, but fondness for her brother and his efforts to “help out the family,” prompted her mouth to quirk slightly at the corners. Luckily Dori didn’t see.

He huffed. “Now I’ve got to go fetch him and convince those tree lovers that he’s just completely daft and won’t try it again, even though I _know_ he will,” he poured the surviving batter in a tin and stuck it in the oven, the fire beneath crackling lowly. “And that means at least a week away from you and the shop, and that’s just traveling, never mind how long it’ll take to butter up those Elves.”

“A week?” she parroted faintly, eyes glazing over. An idea was forming in her mind, a new hope flickering in her chest.

“At minimum,” The dwarf deflated, taking in the mess his whisking made of both his kitchen and his once-immaculate platinum hair. “No sitting on the table, darling. Can you hand me a dishrag?”

With the wheels in her mind cranking, Ori wordlessly pumped water into the sink, wetting a cloth and handing it to her brother, then set about cleaning the dishes that Dori’s baking adventure left behind.

 _“Just ask him. What’s the harm in it?”_ she thought, brow furrowed slightly. _“Sure, he’ll probably say no, but I’ve got to give it a try. I owe it to myself, right? Just a few little words…”_

She put down the bowl she was scrubbing, the scoured copper clinking on the stone basin.

“B-brother?” she asked, mentally cursing the shaking in her voice.

“Yes, Ori?” he hummed, scrubbing the countertops clean. Slimy messes in his home were forbidden, as was pipe smoking in the living room, drinking too much ale, burping, chewing with your mouth open, dirty dishes, dusty shelves, and unmade beds.

“I-I was wondering i-if… uh… if I…” her voice faded to a mumbled whisper as she lost her nerve, her shyness enveloping her in a hazy cloud of self-doubt.

“You what, darling? Speak up. You know I can’t hear you when you mumble.”

“Um… well… I w-would like to…”

“ _Ori,_ ” he glanced over at his baby sister, who was staring down at her toes and twining her fingers in her yet un-plaited hair. “Out with it, lass.”

She steeled her resolve and braced for the worst, plastering a grin on her face. “I wish t-to go with you. To M-Mirkwood.”

Dori’s head whipped around so fast he felt the vertebrae his neck crack. “You want to _what?!_ ”

“I want to go with you,” she repeated, her smile wavering, and clasped her hands under her chin pleadingly. “I just want to see what it’s like outsi–”

“Absolutely not.”

“But Dori!”

“I said _no,_ Ori!”

Something in Ori snapped. She was a gentle soul that avoided confrontation, and she normally would have backed down and let it be, but she had been hidden away all her life, never set one single step outside, never complained, but enough was enough.

“It’s not fair! You and Nori get to leave any time you please and I have to stay _here!_ ”

Dori looked utterly flabbergasted. “What’s wrong with here? You have your books, your art, your family!”

“I’m _locked in_ , that’s what’s wrong!” she ground out through clenched teeth.

“Ori, I’ve explained to you before why you’re in here, I just want to keep you safe!”

“ _Safe?!_ How much safer can I be than if I’m at your side? Nori always told me how strong you are. Please Dori, I just want to see what it’s like out there!”

“Darling, you’re still a child, please, try and see reason –”

“I am _not_ a child anymore, I’m 79 years old! I know you think I’m an innocent little girl, but honestly, I can handle far more than you give me credit for!

“Ori, the world is dangerous and you know absolutely nothing about it! Why are you fighting me on this?” his tone grew desperate. Where had his sweet little sister gone?

“Whose fault is it that I know nothing of the world?! You keep me locked me away and you don’t ever even _tell me_ anything about it and I just want to –”

“I don’t want you getting hurt!”

She felt unshed tears burning in her eyes, her voice rising to hysterics. She _needed_ this, why couldn’t he understand that? “But, Dori, you’ll be there to protect me! And it’s not like I want to leave home forever, it’s just for a few days, and I promise if I go, I’ll never ask to leave again! Please, please, brother!”

“Ori, I said no and I stand by my word! You. Are. _Never._ Leaving. This. Tower!”

The fire that flared in her gut was extinguished. Eyes cast downward, jaw quivering and tears beginning to cascade freely down her freckled cheeks, Ori pushed past her eldest brother and took off up the stairs, leaping two at a time, back to her room.

She slammed the door and threw herself onto the bed, curling into a ball on the quilt Dori had bought for her when she was small.

“I just… wanted… to feel the sun… taste fresh air… just for a little while…” she sobbed and hiccupped into her pillow. “Just for… a little while…”

-

Dori stood stock-still in the kitchen, frozen to his very core.

What just happened? What wrong with his Ori? She had never complained about the tower before.

He gave her books and he taught her how to write so she could create her own. He gave her ink and quills and pencils and paints, bought her the most beautiful yarn he could afford so she could knit scarves and mittens to her heart’s content!

Was it really so awful here?

When had she started to see their home as a prison?

He just wanted to keep her safe… where had he gone wrong?

Dori felt sick to his stomach. He hung his head and rubbed his palms hard into his eyes, breathing deeply and willing unshed tears to recede.

For a long time he stood like that, looking as broken outside as he felt underneath his skin.

He was brought back to reality by the smell of something burning. Jumping and hastily tugging on oven mitts, (oven mitts that Ori had made for him… oh, Ori… A fresh wave of acid clawed at his belly…) he tore open the oven door, only to be greeted with a face-full of smoke.

Even his cake had burned.

**Author's Note:**

> Aw, not the cake!
> 
> (The summary sounds so cheesy, gosh, I suck at those.)
> 
> One day, I was listening to songs from Tangled and HND, and my brain hatched an idea. So I said, hey, why not? Fem!Ori/Kili needs more love cause they're adorable and the world needs more of them.
> 
>  
> 
> I hope you've enjoyed! I'll try and update frequently, which might just happen, cause I have so many ideas and I'm totally psyched for this.


End file.
